Mein Liebe and Amore Mio
by Chiara Alice Vargas
Summary: Gilbert is a regular on the neon-floored club. Lovino just so happens to be forced into the dancefloor one night. "Hey, babe. You come here often?" Smooth, Gil. Smooth. But as it turns out, it's not party all day, all night for Gil. He could actually become a boyfriend to a cranky Italian, too! PruMano, AU. For my awesome best friends, Disco Pogo and Tsunmato.


**Mein Liebe and Amore Mio**  
**A PruMano fanfic (shhh, yes, I ship it now)**  
**Rated T**  
**Warnings:** _AU. Somewhat 'lulzy' on Gilbert's part. I have never written PruMano before or either of the characters so please don't expect the quality of my characterisation to be made of gold. Also, Disco Pogo._

_{ This is dedicated to one of my favourite cosplay couples out there, Akira/Disco Pogo (Prussia) and Ren/Tsunmato (Romano)! They were the ones who actually converted me into shipping PruMano uwu /cries }_

**Chapter 1:** _Atzen Party Ding-A-Ling_

* * *

Lovino's heels skidded along the pavement and he scowled in annoyance at his little brother and his childhood friend, Zoe, who he had agreed to meet up with today. They were excitedly pushing him along the streets of Berlin, to a nightclub with lots of neon lights and pop music. Why were they on the streets of Berlin? Feliciano, his air-headed, carefree little brother, was visiting his boss, Ludwig, for some "business", and he had to come along to make sure Feliciano didn't get lost in his own hotel room. Lovino scowled again just thinking about it. Business with that potato-eating bastard! Hah. For all he knew, the pair might have been dating already by then. And doing other things besides dating as well...

"Feliciano, will you stop pushing me? I can walk on my own, thank you very much!" Lovino snapped at him, and Zoe clicked her tongue in distaste.

She shook her head, stopped pushing him and folded her arms. "You are so uptight, Lovino. When will you learn to let loose and have fun?" She smiled at him warmly, but Lovino eyed her skeptically.

"Have fun?" He scowled. "How am I supposed to have fun when you two basically forced me out of my hotel room to go to some Godforsaken club? I was perfectly fine and content watching TV in the hotel room, reruns of soap operas but you two just had to drag me out here in the freezing Berlin cold in the middle of November!" He screeched, angry at the both of them. He wished he could be somewhere else right now, somewhere he could watch Rosalinda and Frederico's love story unfold, somewhere he could just lay down and empathise with Maria Corazon's troubles with her new husband, somewhere where he could just be in peace and not somewhere he would be forced to mingle, frolic, party, drink and dance with Germans and whatever-else in some blindingly bright neon-lit club.

But apparently, you don't always get what you want.

Lovino sighed irritably and shrug the two annoying idiots off. Whatever. He was already out of the house anyway, and he'd need a cab or something to get back to his hotel room. Not that he'd even bother now.

"I'm sorry, fratello, but I think cooping up inside the hotel room watching Spanish soap operas where they all slap each other and yank each other's hair isn't either physically or mentally healthy." Feliciano pouted at him, and Lovino felt guilty for snapping at him when he was only concerned.

"And you think drinks and late-night shenanigans are healthy?"

Zoe raised a brow. "It's just a few drinks. Social drinking. You're not gonna die from that. Actually, you don't even have to drink. See, no prob!"

Lovino simply glared at her. She has a point. However, that didn't stop him from being annoyed at them as their insufferably loud voices were heard around the nearly empty streets of the German capital. It turned a few heads, and Lovino didn't want to put up with the unwanted, embarrassing attention. They were nearly there, though. The club was in plain sight; it stood at the corner.

They walked into the club-slash-danceparty-slash-bar. It was ear-shatteringly loud in there, a hundred thousand decibels of German party music. Lovino couldn't even hear himself think amidst all this noise! The entire place was filled with bright, fluorescent lights, party food, the smell of cigarette smoke and liquor, the chit-chat of the patrons, and partygoers dressed in their party clothes, more often than not, revealing or in style. Even the men were not spared.

Apart from that, it was dim, as the only source of light was the stage, the bar and the dim lights around the inside perimeter of the venue.  
Neon lights weren't really enough. Yes, it was dim, and the moment his attention left his brother and his friend, they were both gone.

He cursed to himself. Great. Now he was stuck in this club he never even wanted to go to. He was mysteriously abandoned by his two companions, and he doesn't know anyone here. He is left with almost-zero survival skills in this arena. A test by the gods of partying. He must survive out in the nightlife for one night. Well, fine, gods of partying, I'll show you who's boss, thought Lovino angrily.

He walked to the bar, trying to keep his calm and his composure intact. He can do this. He's not gonna look like a lost child in an adults-only place. He perfectly knows what he's doing, dammit!

He sat down on one of the seats and the bartender approached him with a raised eyebrow. "What will you have, sir?" He asked a little testily, as if he was trying to make Lovino break and stutter and make his façade fall. Yeah. He honestly doesn't know what he's doing.

What are those drinks by the shelf, anyway? What are they called? What do they normally serve here? What do people normally get? How the heck was he supposed to know? His mind was buzzing with a lot of questions and this proved further about how unprepared he was.

Oh no, Lovino wasn't a stranger to drinking. He's had his fair drinks at parties. He's of legal age so of course he has. Especially when Nonno Roma was the one throwing the party. There was always wine, and he was no stranger to the feeling of being tipsy. But a party with the entire neighbourhood, a party at home where you knew at least seventy percent of the attendees was different from a rave of strangers whose faces and names you didn't know. Foreign city, foreign customs, foreign language, everything. It was different here, and that's what made him feel uneasy.

"I-I'll have a glass of tomato juice." He managed to stammer out. Wait, what? He realised it too late. The barkeep gave him a funny look. Tomato juice, Lovino? Seriously? Wow, you're such a party animal! Way to go! Really convincing! Nevertheless, the bartender got on with his order. So they do serve that here. Huh.

Moments later, he was served a tall glass with red liquid inside it, and a straw. Fu— A straw? This is just adding insult to injury.

"Thanks." he grumbled. "Do I pay here, or—"

"I'll add it to your tab. You can pay later." The employee replied in a gruff tone. Lovino just decided to let it go and nod. Maybe they had their ways of remembering whose order was whose.

He took a sip of his tomato juice — not bad! — and scanned the place for any sign of a hyper, male brunette and a busty, blonde Belgian female. He wondered if he should put up the "Missing" posters now. His brother really had a knack for either getting lost or losing other people. Whichever was more possible.

"Oi, change the music up there to Disco Pogo!" A voice yelled at the deejay. Everyone stopped, looked for the one who shouted, then cheered. "Yeah, Gilbert!" "It's rave time!"

The first few electrical-sounding notes. Then he jumped onto the stage.

"Was ist los? Es ist Party angesagt!" A white haired man shouted onto the microphone. The same man who demanded the music change. Everybody cheered wildly, jumping up and down into the air, fist pumping. Glowing bracelets can be seen from their wrists and a mix of glow-in-the-dark fluorescent colours in the crowd.

Lovino had decided one thing. German clubs were weird.

They danced along, raving during the whole song. Lovino looked and felt like the only one who was sitting down, clearly confused and not enjoying himself. Even the bartender looked like he was joining in.

The white-haired man was jumping up and down and dancing to the beat, making his way through the crowd while greeting everyone in his way, like, "Hey Gretchen!" or "'sup, Mike?" or "Yo, Heidi, nice haircut!" It seemed like he was the life of the party, and that he knew pretty much everyone who went here. Maybe he was a regular. Lovino scowled. Could anybody actually go back here every night like it was some habit already, or a ritual? Does the party ever end for them? Maybe those people need to get lives or watch some Spanish soap operas.

He remembered that his brother and his friend were both squished in this mish-mash rave party. He tried searching for them with his eyes again, to no avail. He scratched the back of his head with an annoyed click of his tongue.

He didn't notice the white-haired male approach him. "Hey babe. You come here often?" He started with a smirk, successfully startling the poor, lonely, cranky, grumpy Italian.

"What do you want? Who are you?" Lovino replied, wide-eyed. Then he narrowed his eyes in suspicion. He knew not to trust people in places like these. They're under the influence of God-knows-what and they're most likely up to no good. It didn't really help that the guy was wearing shutter shades (childish; no sense of style, Lovino noted) Maybe the guy was trying to pick up some ladies and he must have thought Lovino was a chick. Yeah. Now if he could just send the fool away...

"Whoa. Easy there, buddy. No need to act all hissy-pissy." The stranger grinned. "And I'm quite disappointed you don't know me by now; I'm quite well-known here. Although, I can't blame you. Haven't seen you before."

Lovino snorted. "'Course you haven't, I'm not a regular, y'know? Unlike some people, I have a life and I don't waste it by going to toxic neon alcohol wasteland partying like idiots stoned on LSD."

"Ouch. Well, I bet you don't have a life either, and you just bide your time watching Betty La Fea or some shit. You don't look like you've been to a lot of social situations in your life." He bared his teeth in a cocky smirk-grin. Lovino's cheeks flushed, partly at how true the other's accusation was, and partly at how infuriating the other's accuracy was. So what? At least he didn't go around wasting money each and every night to do nothing but drink, socialise with complete strangers and mindlessly move around in jerky movements and spasms, self-choreographed steps and random air-punching and call that crap 'dancing'.

"What do you want?" Lovino growled, unable to keep up argument.

"Nothing, really. You just look kinda alone. Haven't been to many parties before, huh?" He sat himself down on the seat beside the frowning Italian. On one hand, Lovino was thankful he sat down because his neck was aching from trying to look up at him. On another hand, he was annoyed at the guy because he chose to sat beside him, like they knew each other for them to just casually do that.

"If it is, then what's it to you?"

"Maybe you could use a friend or two."

"For your information, I have two friends over there at the dancefloor. I don't need more."

"Where are they?"

Lovino grumbled. Damn. Where were they? Stupid Feliciano and Zoe. "S-somewhere there." He waved his hand dismissively. "It's neither here, nor there. Point is, I don't really need someone to talk to me. 'sides, don't you have other friends to get back to?" 'like, the entire club, for instance?' Lovino added in his mind, additional retort for good measure. But he decided against it.

"Well, seems like they abandoned you to go have fun. Isn't that nice? You're such a stick in the mud, y'know? Loosen up!" The other guy poked him on his side and he reflexively twitched. He hated being poked there. He glared daggers at the annoying man.

"Come on, I'll treat you to drinks, then we can party." He winked, grinning at him. He pushed his shutter shades up to the top of his hair which held it down and ordered a drink for both of them. Lovino took this chance to study him properly. His platinum blonde hair was actually real and not dyed, and not merely his hair. His eyebrows and eyelashes were also white. His eyes glowed red under these lights which made him all the more mysterious. He didn't notice himself leaning closer and closer to the albino until said albino cleared his throat and pointed it out to him.

"Checking us out, are we now?" He snickered, and Lovino felt a defiant blush rise to his cheeks.

"What? I'm not! I think I saw a bug on your shoulder a while ago, so I tried to get a closer look! Y-Yeah...!" He tried to salvage himself from the embarrassment, but the other one just laughed and shrugged it off.

"Don't sweat it. Most people find my eyes most fascinating." He gave a dry chuckle, pushing the beer he ordered for Lovino. He didn't even bother to ask the Italian what he wanted. "I'm Gilbert."

"Lovino." He nodded and grumbled back. Might as well get acquainted with this cheeky idiot, he's got all night and no friends anyway. He took a swig of the beer, feeling confident. That was until the acidic burning of the swill hit his oesophagus and made him cough and choke on his drink. Damn, that was stronger than the wine he's had before. His throat felt like someone poured literal alcohol down there.

Gilbert laughed. "Wow. You're pretty weak." Lovino scowled, and to prove that he's not, he took another gulp, ignoring the irritated reaction of his throat. This time, it didn't hurt as much; it just felt really itchy and he felt like ripping it out. But much better than the first. He'll get used to it in time.

"So anyway. You don't sound German. What's up with that?"

"That's because I'm not German."

"Smartass." Gilbert sneered. "What are you, then?"

"Italian. I'm just here accompanying my idiota of a brother on a business trip."

Gilbert laughed again. "I like Italians. Either they're really fiesty or really cowardly. Maybe a mix of both." He shrugged. "Well, I'm German, in case you haven't noticed. Actually, I believe I'm of Prussian descent. That's what me and my half-brother believe."

Lovino didn't really have an idea what a 'Prussian' was, but he got a feeling he wasn't supposed to question that so he just nodded.

"I'm twenty-six and I work as a worker for a toy factory. Seems gay, huh?" He chuckled, but Lovino didn't laugh with him.

"I don't think so. As long as you've got a job, that's all cool, right?"

"Hm. Guess you've got a point. What are you?"

"Part-time worker at my grandfather's winery, and full-time university slave. Graduating, though, so that's okay. I'm twenty-three." Lovino smiled a bit. Maybe he was warming up to the man.

Gilbert nodded his head knowingly. "I get you. University was such a bitch on me. Fucking partied for 3 whole days when I graduated. Felt so good to be freed of that shithole. Had to work part-time as well in a local diner, y'know? Hard to balance both work and school." He shook his head distastefully and took a swig of his beer.

Oh, Lovino knew that feeling all too well. Mentions of it just made memories of sleepless nights recur.

Suddenly, another song blared out of the speakers and Gilbert perked up. "Hey, I love this song!" He grinned and pulled Lovino up. He protested in dismay and annoyance, but he was pretty much ignored. His knees instantly buckled and he almost lost his footing, the view in front of him was getting woozy.

"You okay?" Gilbert asked, alarmed. Lovino had to reach out and grasp Gilbert's shoulder.

"Y-yeah, just a bit dizzy..."

Gilbert held him upright until he was fine on his own again. He didn't really bother thanking him but Gilbert didn't really care so it was ignored.

Lovino was pulled to the dancefloor even if he exclaimed that he could walk fine on his own. Gilbert started demonstrating some cool dance moves, which apparently were in right now because that's what most people were doing, save for a few idiots who can't dance to save their lives so they resorted to karate-chopping the air.

He found himself following Gilbert's lead. Soon enough, he was dancing along to the beat.

"So, you having any fun?" Gilbert grinned, his shutter shades now back on, and his glow-in-the-dark paraphernalia more visible.

"Y-yeah." He managed to breathe out, getting really tired of dancing upbeat like this.

Soon enough, Feliciano and Zoe found him first and instantly, Lovino frowned. "Where the fuck were you two?! I kept looking all over for you!"

"S-sorry! Got carried away." Zoe grinned, panting thanks to the energy spent on partying. Feliciano was slumped on her arm, groaning.

"I'm poooooped. I'm tired now..."

"Looks like we have to go." Zoe chuckled. Gilbert stopped dancing.

"Are these your friends?"

"Yeah. We have to go now, though. My brother's being all whiny again. Sorry." Lovino frowned at him. Just when he was starting to let to and have fun, too! "It was nice meeting you, though." Lovino started to follow the two out, but Gilbert tapped on his shoulder.

"Wait!" He frowned and stuck his hand in his pocket, trying to get something stuck inside. He procured a pen from his pants' pocket and after looking around frantically, for what Lovino guessed might be paper, he had given up and resorted to sticking Lovino's arm out. He scribbled a phone number on there, and Lovino scowled.

"Seriously? Did you have to vandalise my arm?"

"What else did I have? Anyway, call me or something, it was nice meeting you! Oh, and don't worry, I'll take care of your tab." He grinned before going back to dancing.

Lovino glanced at the messy writing on his skin and frowned. He didn't like the guy but he figured he was still cool. Maybe he would try to give him a call tomorrow, when he wasn't probably watching Spanish actresses have catfights on screen.

One thing's for sure though, he didn't expect his first trip to the club to garner him a friend.


End file.
